


Fire Burn

by Lisgreomg



Category: Sports Night
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:30:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisgreomg/pseuds/Lisgreomg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How did a video store make Casey realize that he wouldn't trade working with Danny for anything?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire Burn

At first, Casey was just fucking pissed.

And not his normal kind of pissed, where he got snippy and made fun of Jerry Falwell at every possible opportunity, but the slow burn of pissed, where it was all he thought about, constantly bubbling at the back of his mind. In a way that made “Macbeth” lines play randomly through his mind.

( _Fire burn and caldron bubble)_

The movie place he goes to is the one he found right after Lisa kicked him out, and, when he pushes his way through the door, he’s scowling the same as he was the first time he walked in there. He knows because he catches his reflection in the same mirror, large and wrinkled, the scowl looking horrible on his face. It brings him up a little short. Because that anger boiling in the back of his brain is familiar, very much so.

( _Bubble bubble, toil and trouble)_

It’s a lot like it was during the divorce.

_(Adder’s fork and blind worm’s sting)_

That thought sparks cold and clear through the hot simmer of anger before he pushes it away.

_(Lizard’s leg and owlet’s wing)_

Honestly, at this point? He really doesn’t care if he’s divorcing Dan, in fact, that kind of sounds like a good idea.

_(For a charm of powerful trouble, like a hell-broth boil and bubble)_

A small, horrible part of Casey is delighting in this. Because this time? It’s not his fault that a relationship is crashing and burning. Right now, at this moment, there isn’t a person alive that would tell him he didn’t give enough, didn’t care enough. He likes this, he likes knowing that it’s not him that’s screwed up. Not like with Dana, when he hadn’t done enough, been _experienced_ enough. Not like with Lisa, where nothing was ever enough.

_(But that’s not true is it? He remembers, just a few weeks ago, Dan coming up to him, sweaty and looking like he was steps away from falling apart, but Casey had been more concerned about fucking Shane McArnold then his best friend. He considers that memory, then pushes it away as well. He’s angry at Dan, rightfully angry.)_

It wasn’t because he wasn’t good enough for Dan, Dan didn’t want more from him, Dan would never ask for more from him. It was in fact, because he was _too good_ for him. So good, that he forced Danny’s shortcomings into brighter focus.

_(Lisa’s voice is harsh and snapping, “I don’t know what you want from me Casey, you’re never here. And when you are here, you’re never here enough”)_

Casey stops looking at himself in the mirror, and, because the owner’s facing a long line of customers, goes down another aisle, pressing his finger against _Caddyshack_ for a long moment as he continues thinking.

_(Because, of course, Danny does the same thing for him, forces his flaws into the light of day)_

It was only because Danny sat next to him that Casey understood just how horrible he was with making up jokes on the fly. Danny could do that, looking right at the camera, at the words on the teleprompter, and think of something even better then whatever they’d written that afternoon. Anytime Casey tried to do that it came out like a mishmash of the old joke and the new one. Until Danny had patiently explained it to him, that half smile on his face like he was delighted that Casey would want his help.

_(“It isn’t about of thinking of something better Casey, it’s about seeing the words that fit. Don’t see the old words on the prompter, see the new ones.”)_

Casey hadn’t asked for his help, hadn’t even really suggested it, except to say, smiling and a little flushed with embarrassment after another spectacular screw up that Dana was already mocking in his ear, that he couldn’t believe Danny could do that. Danny had laughed, pleased with the praise, faint as it was, and offered to coach him. He remembers accepting the offer with such ill grace that Danny’s smile had faded, just a little bit. He might have made a comment about not knowing how much coaching he needed from someone that didn’t know the difference between secular and non-secular. He’d said it jokingly of course.

_(“I don’t know Danny, lessons from someone who made a fool of himself in front of Hillary Clinton? What if she hears about this?”)_

But then, all of his cut downs were jokes. Casey continues staring at the movie, not really sure why he’s thinking about this, why he’s suddenly not so righteous about all of this.

_(Danny’s voice, tired and shaking plays in his ear, “I'm undergoing some kind of nervous collapse.” His own, still concerned about Shane, not Danny, “Alright, so we're probably on our own today.”)_

But it was, it _was_ Danny’s fault. He’s sure of it.

_Danny_ was the one who imploded on air.

Danny _humiliated_ him in front of three million households.

Honestly, sometimes Casey wishes he picked the late night show.

_(No.)_

No he really never does.

He stares at _Caddyshack_ as everything falls into place with almost a click.

Despite Danny’s meltdown, there’s no one he understands better. Certainly not Dana. Defiantly not Lisa.

For ten years Danny has been the touchstone in his life, the steady place while everything and everyone else bucked and weaved and spun. And now, what? He’s mad at Danny for spinning once himself? He’s spun out a few times, and Danny certainly never blamed him. Not once.

He licks his lips and resists the urge to take a seat on the grungy floor of the movie store.

Because, really, there’s nothing he’d rather be doing then Sports Night, with Danny. Not anything. 


End file.
